


Gentian (Frodo)

by kathkin



Series: A Few Notes in the Song of Creation (a Lord of the Rings Dæmon AU) [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: Some dæmons were like Sam's Harebell; folks looked at her upon first meeting him and said to themselves, that’s Sam, true and proper. Others, rarer, were like Gentian; you could know them for years and years before realising, ah of course, of course that’s the only shape he could have.At Frodo's bedside in Rivendell, Sam reflects.





	Gentian (Frodo)

**Author's Note:**

> a) Wikipedia on [dæmons](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%A6mon_\(His_Dark_Materials\)).
> 
> b) [Ground rules for this AU](http://penny-anna.tumblr.com/post/174266827343/ground-rules-for-d%C3%A6mon-au) (and [my headcanons](http://penny-anna.tumblr.com/post/174050937438/some-further-thoughts-re-lotr-daemon-au-which-is) re dog dæmons and same-gender dæmons).
> 
> c) See end notes for dæmon key!

They’d always been a funny pair, Frodo and his little dæmon.

There were those in the Shire who said you couldn’t trust a hobbit if his dæmon didn’t have a face and eyes you could see and Sam understood why. What did it say about someone, if their dæmon was something that hid in dark places, something that crawled under damp leaves and in the shadows.

But Frodo’s Gentian had been different, somehow. He’d been long settled when they first met – he’d settled too early, perhaps too early – and when Sam had seen Gentian for the first time he’d felt naught but a fierce urge to protect him, delicate, soft thing that he was.

Gentian was dove-grey, little enough to fit entirely in Frodo’s hand. His voice, rarely heard, was soft and small, but steady. It had been strange to Sam, at first, that such an ordinary, bright-eyed hobbit as Mr Frodo should have such an odd dæmon but he had come to understand.

Some dæmons were like his Harebell; folks looked at her upon first meeting him and said to themselves, _that’s Sam, true and proper_. Others, rarer, were like Gentian; you could know them for years and years before realising, _ah of course, of course that’s the only shape he could have_.

The grey had gone from Gentian’s wings. At first he had turned ghostly pale and now, as he sat motionless on the pillow, Sam could see clean through him.

Frodo hadn’t moved or made a sound in all the days since they had come to Rivendell. He and Gentian had always been restless, twitchy sleepers but Gentian didn’t so much as flutter a wing. Frodo’s hand was cold, though Sam held it between both of his own and tried to warm it. Cold and growing colder.

He heard footsteps behind him and knew who it was without looking. “Tis unnatural,” he said, “this fading.”

“It is.” Gandalf’s hand touched his shoulder.

When someone died their dæmon ought to go away quick, not dwindle like a dying fire, like ink fading in the sun. But what really frightened him, what made him sick to his stomach, was the thought that when Gentian faded altogether Mr Frodo might not go with him.

“You ought to rest,” said Gandalf.

“I’ll not leave them,” said Sam.

“He isn’t going anywhere, Sam,” said Gandalf. “I shall watch over him.”

If Sam took his eyes off Gentian he might look back to find him gone. He shook his head.

“Sam,” said Gandalf. “He wouldn’t want you suffering on his account.”

“I’m not suffering.” Sam rubbed his burning eyes. “I’ll not leave him.”

“I see,” said Gandalf. Then, to Sam’s astonishment, he said, “Harebell.”

Harebell lay atop the coverlet. At the sound of her name she raised her head, pricked up her ears, even more startled than Sam to be addressed so directly. “Yes?” she said.

“See that he gets some rest,” said Gandalf.

Harebell nodded her red-gold head. Climbing to her paws, she hopped off the bed.

Sam saw what she meant to do, but he didn’t rise. He sat stubbornly holding Mr Frodo’s hand, but he turned to watch her go. In the doorway she paused, one foot raised. _I’m going, Sam, I mean it, I shall do it_ , the look in her eyes said. Still he didn’t move. With a huff, she stepped out of the chamber.

Another step and he felt the first tug. Two more steps and it began to be a strain.

A nasty, wrenching pain hauled him out of his chair and releasing Frodo’s hand he stumbled towards the door. “On you go,” said Gandalf, laying a guiding hand upon his back. “I’ll watch over him. Don’t worry.”

In the doorway Sam stole a last look back. Frodo and Gentian lay motionless, unchanged.

**Author's Note:**

> Dæmons in this fic:
> 
>  **Frodo and Gentian:** [pale tussock moth](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calliteara_pudibunda#/media/File:Calliteara_pudibunda.jpg).  
>  **Sam and Harebell:** [red cocker spaniel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Bojars%27s_english_cocker_spaniel.jpg).  
> 


End file.
